


Best Laid Plans

by SNES_Trumpets



Category: Lupin III
Genre: Action, Arguments, Blood, Gen, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Torture, Violence, failed heist, feral Goemon, mafia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:34:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26372782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SNES_Trumpets/pseuds/SNES_Trumpets
Summary: When Jigen gets captured, Goemon insists on going to rescue him on his own, despite Lupin's protests.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30
Collections: Lupin III Big Bang 2020





	Best Laid Plans

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Moralltach](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moralltach/gifts).



The stench of the sewer was so strong that Jigen regularly had to choke down his bile. They’d been wading through the muck for what seemed like hours, and still his nose had not turned blind to the stench. Irritation bubbling up through his chest, Jigen stopped in his tracks. 

“Ya have no idea where yer goin’, do ya?”

Lupin kept moving forward, the viscous liquid sloshing with each step he took. “I miiiiiight have lied about how long this would take.” 

“Wait.” Jigen quickened his pace, catching up with him, spraying shit-infested water everywhere. “Are ya kiddin’ me? Why?”

“Because you wouldn’t have agreed to come otherwise.” 

“There was no need to lie to me, too.” Goemon crossed his arms. “To think I would be so dishonorable to deny a mission purely because of a smell.” 

Lupin rolled his eyes and pointed to a ladder on the stone wall nearby, moonlight twinkling on the sewage. “Look. That’s our stop.” 

Jigen was first to the ladder, clawing his way up, the rusty metal rough beneath his hands. Then he froze. His heart pounded, a hand creeping to the gun at his hip. Voices, but not from above. They echoed through the tunnels, sounding as though they were right around the corner. He scaled the rest of the ladder and pushed against the grate with all his strength, but it wouldn’t budge. 

“What’s the hold up?” Lupin hissed, just a few rungs below him on the ladder.

“It won’t open,” Jigen said through gritted teeth. He tried to push again, the voices even closer now, accompanied with sloshing and the clicking sound of a gun being loaded. He desperately tried to push again, his hands grimy, covered in sludge, slipping against the cool metal of the grate as he shoved, heart about to explode in his chest. 

“For fuck’s sake, get down and cover me while I try,” Lupin said, swatting at Jigen’s leg. “Go, go!” 

Swearing under his breath, Jigen jumped down from the ladder and into the sewage, putrid water splashing all over him, all over the walls, and all over Goemon. Feeling queasy, Jigen pulled out his gun, the two men now in sight. He fired a shot, hitting the man on the right in the arm who stumbled with a cry of shock and pain. The other man shouted as he spotted Jigen, raising his gun and firing without warning, gunshots echoing through the sewer tunnel. 

Jigen narrowly dodged the incoming bullets, returning fire with two more shots, one of which knocked the already-injured man down. The remaining man gritted his teeth, firing at Goemon, who was now fast approaching, sweeping at the remaining man with Zantetsuken. The man shot wildly, bullets flying everywhere, richoetting from the walls. They whizzed past Goemon, narrowly missed Lupin up on the ladder, and grazed Jigen’s cheek, blood dribbling down his face. 

Just as Goemon slashed the man’s chest, he cried out, calling for backup. Blood sprayed everywhere, splattering Jigen’s cheek. The man slumped to the floor, face down in the sewage. Footsteps thundered down the tunnel and the sound of metal slamming against concrete caused Jigen to whip around. 

“I got it open,” Lupin said. “Hurry.”

Goemon reached the ladder first. Lupin had already climbed out of the sewers, and he was halfway up. Jigen was struggling to catch up, wading through the muck and, at the same time, trying to avoid the bullets flying around him. The rest of the men had approached now, all of them firing wildly.

Jigen fired two shots, easily taking down two men, but it hardly made a dent in the forces. He stepped backwards toward the ladder, keeping his gun locked on the crowd. Heart pounding, he narrowly avoided a swarm of bullets and took a few more steps backwards, firing three more shots and taking down three more men. Lupin was calling for him now. He swore viciously and desperately tried to reload his gun, but a bullet smashed into it and knocked it out of his hands. It sunk into the sewage. He scrambled around for it, clawing through the liquid until his fingers brushed past a solid mass. Thankfully, it was his gun. Unfortunately, a sharp pain shot through his body immediately after the brief relief. He pressed a hand to the new wound in his side, blood mingling with the shit-infested water already soaking his hands, as his breath came out in choked gasps. 

“Jigen!” Goemon’s voice called after him, the metallic sound of his zori tapping against the metal rungs of the ladder. 

“Nngh. Fuck.” Jigen grunted as he fell to his knees, black spots swarming his vision as the advancing men surrounded him, still firing up at Goemon and Lupin as his other two companions barely slid out in time. Two of the men hauled Jigen roughly to his feet and he slumped forwards as he felt his body jerked along with them as they retreated from Lupin’s return fire. Coughing weakly, he felt himself fading from the pain and stench, the last thing he heard being Goemon’s fading voice as he finally succumbed to darkness. 

***

The safehouse was a mess. Ashtrays stuffed to the brim with cigarette butts, old pizza boxes, empty beer cans and wine bottles, all strewn across the floors and tables. The air hung thick with the smell of cigarettes and alcohol. Lupin sat on the couch, hunched over a notebook, scribbling away. 

“We shouldn’t be wasting time on plans.” Goemon said, watching Lupin from across the room, his eyes narrowed. 

“What, you wanna just rush in there and get killed?” Lupin’s grip on the pen tightened. “It’s unfamiliar territory, man, and with just the two of us it’s gonna be tough.”

“Perhaps we would have had more men if you had not let Jigen get caught,” Goemon said, his voice calm on the surface but laced with a venomous edge.

“God, Goemon. We wouldn’t even be doing this if Jigen hadn’t gotten caught, okay?” Lupin sighed, softening his voice. “Look, man, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to turn out this way, I-”

“I cannot waste any more time here. I’m leaving.”

“Goemon, buddy, you realise we’ll do a better job of this if we both go together, right?” 

“I do not need you.” 

Hurt flickered in Lupin’s eyes, just for a second, before it disappeared again, hidden beneath his nonchalant facade. “No, no, Goemon-chan,” he purred. “Wait a second. I’ve got a real good plan in the works here and-” 

“No. We must leave now.”

Lupin clicked his tongue, slamming his hands down on his notebook. “You don’t get it! Just listen to me, man. Hear me out. I’m working on this really neat plan, yeah? So you just need to wait for a second, understand?” 

“You do not need to be so patronizing.” Goemon marched across the safehouse towards the door, stepping over piles of dirty plates as he did so. 

Lupin gave an exasperated sigh. “Fine. Go ahead. See if I care.” 

“You clearly don’t,” Goemon said before walking out of the door and slamming it behind him. Frustration swelled in his chest, causing him to grit his teeth, but he took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. He couldn’t let his emotions get a hold of him. The night air was frigid, hurting his lungs but cooling his temper. 

He walked over to the Fiat, the leaves on the ground crunching beneath his zorī. He stood in front of the car for a few moments, contemplating whether he should just walk as the idea of driving was unpleasant. With a sigh through his nose, he opened the door and sat down at the wheel, going through the directions in his head. He turned the key in the ignition, pressed down on the gas, the little yellow car lurching forward. 

The road was lined with trees either side, the branches reaching over to form a canopy. Moonlight dappled through gaps in the canopy, speckling the road in a silver light. An owl hooted in the distance, barely audible over the roaring engine as Goemon floored it, the car speeding down the road. The car almost tipped over with each turn Goemon made, but he gritted his teeth and pressed down on the pedal as hard as he could, the entire body of the fiat rattling. 

Goemon eased his foot on the pedal as he approached the hide-out, formerly a small hotel. He parked the car right out in the open, slamming the door loudly as he stepped out. The guards outside glared at him, raising their guns. Goemon drew Zantetsuken and sprinted across the parking lot, closing in on the two men. Before they could shoot, he slashed both of them down, blood spraying all over his face. They collapsed to the floor, guns clattering against the ground. Goemon entered the hotel.

Inside was swarming with guards, men lining every wall, every corner, three of them sat behind the desk. Most of them wore black suits, pistols visible at their hips. They fired as soon as they saw Goemon. He made straight for the three at the desk, slitting their throats with a single slash of his sword. Whipping around, he took down two men to the right of him, and then four more to the left of him, blood splattering across the white tiles and cream walls. The sound of gunfire was deafening. Bullets tore through his clothes, grazing his side, his cheek, his arms, his legs. He slashed back in retaliation, his sword slicing through flesh and clothes, cutting pistols to pieces. 

The first floor was a bloodbath. One man remained alive, slumped against the wall, blood pooling around him. His breaths were ragged and he stared wide-eyed as Goemon approached. 

“Where is he?” Goemon demanded. 

“I-I don’t know what-”

“Daisuke Jigen.” He pressed the tip of his blade against the man’s neck. “Tell me where he is.” 

“Third floor,” the man croaked, sweat pouring down his forehead. “Can’t tell you… specific room… please don’t kill me…” 

Goemon left the man where he was and sprinted up to the elevator and slammed his fist against the button. When it didn’t open immediately he let out a frustrated sigh and ran to the stairs, instead. He climbed the first flight, two more men waiting at the top. One shot him, the bullet tearing through his shoulder. He stumbled, gritted his teeth, and continued sprinting, taking down both men with a flick of his blade. 

Turning, Goemon began climbing the next flight of stairs, his shoulder screaming in protest as he jostled it with every step he took. The screams and gunfire had already lured more guards to the fray, now armed with semi-automatic rifles that barked out a shower of bullets around the swordsman as he advanced on them. Plaster, dust, and chunks of wood flew through the air, the fire chewing through the old walls as Goemon fought to dodge or cut every one. Battling the pain in his shoulder, he grunted at a sudden echoing pain in his thigh as a stray shot sprayed his blood alongside the debris all around. Rage coursed through his body as he grit his teeth in a snarl against the pain, every step and swing stained his clothing a deeper crimson. 

Grabbing the suit coat of the first man, Goemon ran the blade of his sword through his torso and immediately turned on the next.The other guard did not hesitate to pull the trigger, however, sending a swarm of bullets Goemon’s way, but the swordsman easily cut all of them down. Despite his skill, the hailstorm of fire slowed him down to a frustrating crawl up the stairs. Steeling himself, Goemon forced himself to sprint the rest of the way up, cutting what he could as he fought to reach the source.

He continued like this up until the third floor where he collapsed against a wall, gasping for breath, his limbs screaming at him. Blinking through the dust and blood dripping over his eyes, he glanced at his now crimson soaked hakama and sighed. After he had caught his breath, he pushed through the double doors that led to the third floor hotel rooms. Up here, the scenery changed, from the grand sweeping staircases to a long thin hallway, and he squinted through the dim lighting as he stumbled forwards over the deep blue carpeting. One hand slid a bloody trail down the cream coloured walls as his wounds continued to weep and his body desperately urged him to slow down, a sudden wave of lightheadedness causing his surroundings to sway.

As he continued, he noticed men standing in the little alcoves down the entire hallway, but none of them raised their weapons. Whether they figured he was already dead or were under orders, Goemon wasn’t certain, but he kept his sword held before him in a display of hostility. Warily approaching the first door, he kicked it open swiftly and leapt through in case the men outside changed their minds, but found it completely empty. Grunting, he shouldered back out, eying the silent guards again before kicking the next door open. Empty. Again, and again each room he checked was empty, filling him with a sense of frustration and guilt as he realized he had likely been lied to. Cursing under his breath, he figured that was likely why the men weren’t firing. Easier to watch him fail and then ambush him all at once, after the rest of his energy had bled out through his wounds. Arriving at the final door, he shoved through furiously, prepared for further disappointment.

The inside was a typical hotel room like many Goemon had stayed in before, except it was jam packed with supplies. The room held mostly ammunition, but there were several locked cases with firearms, a few cases of beer, some tools, and, much to Goemon’s relief, a pile of medical supplies. Closing the door behind him, Goemon yanked a gun case over to block the entry at least for now and limped over to the bed, grabbing a medical kit as he did so. Lowering himself on the sheets, he shed off the clothing around his wounds, sterilizing them and staunching the flow of blood before wrapping them tightly. Blood seeped through his first few rounds of sterile cloth until he had used enough to risk heading back out. Wringing out the worst of the blood and sweat from his clothes onto the now-filthy bedsheets, he pressed an ear up to the door and listened.

“Okay, that’s it,” a guard said, slightly muffled through the door. “He ain’t gonna die. Can we shoot now?”

“Fuck no, dude. The Boss’ll have your hide,” replied another. 

“So you’re tellin’ me we should just let ‘im go?”

“What do you think, asshole?” 

Goemon didn’t bother to listen to the rest of the conversation, instead opting to kick the door open to limp right past them and back through the double doors. He still did not want to risk the elevator, even if it would have saved the pressure on his leg. Getting caught in there would mean the death of him, as they could simply wait for him to tire and pass out and finish him off without a fight. Sighing, he bit down against the screaming pain in his thigh as he climbed the next set of stairs, the guards here ignoring him, too. 

After what seemed like an eternity, he reached the seventh - and final - floor. The two armed guards opened the double doors for him, semi-automatics slung across their shoulders. He was too exhausted to protest when a third man came to lead him to, presumably, the ‘Boss’. The man said nothing as he walked Goemon down the corridors, only stopping when Goemon stumbled, the dizzy spells becoming too strong for him. Those stairs had caused him to lose a lot of blood, which, when he thought about it, Goemon assumed was the plan. Make him run around ragged looking for Jigen until he got so exhausted he could no longer fight. He bit down on his lip. Hardly worth avoiding the elevator if he simply trapped himself in a different manner. He could almost see the smug look on Lupin’s face if he ever got back to tell him. How foolish he had been! 

The Boss sat at a polished oak desk, his personal belongings neatly arranged atop it - a dragon statue made from solid gold, a stack of leather volumes, a sleek black fountain pen in a wooden pen holder, and a vintage globe of the world. The room was lit by candlelight, their flickering yellow glow strangely inviting. The Boss put down the watch he was examining and looked up at Goemon with dark, piercing eyes.

“Where is he?” Goemon demanded, striding up to the desk and ignoring the yells of protests from the guards.

The Boss sighed and nodded to his men. “Bring him out.” 

Two men returned shortly with a badly bruised and disheveled man, tossing him to the floor in front of Goemon. Still reeking faintly of the shit he’d slogged through earlier, Jigen looked it now too. His suit, tie, and hat were missing, the rest of his clothing torn, filthy, and now bloodied as well. Dark rings hung beneath his hollow eyes as he slowly blinked up through the candlelight beneath his tangled matt of hair.

Goemon was furious. 

“What did they do to you?” he demanded, kneeling down at his side. 

“G-Goemon…” Jigen’s voice was hoarse. 

“What did they do?” he asked again, voice a little higher, a little more urgent. 

“Apparently the same they did to you.” Jigen countered and grunted as they helped each other to their feet, for all the world pretending that they weren’t still utterly surrounded.

There was a click from behind them and Goemon felt the hairs on his arm on end as reality came crashing down all at once. Turning slowly around, he found himself face to face with the barrel of the Boss’ gun as the grinning man lowered his finger to the trigger.

“Touching. But incredibly pathetic.” He chuckled and prepared to fire.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Goemon lunged with the last of his strength, drawing Zantetsuken in a flash, even as he felt that it wouldn’t be enough. With a shudder, his leg gave out, sending him to the ground on his injured shoulder. The sheer pain alone knocked his breath out. Through the dizziness of blood loss, he was vaguely aware that Jigen was already moving towards him, but it wouldn’t matter. The Boss stared coldly down from above him as he aimed his gun straight at the swordsman's heart. This was it. He had failed and both himself and Jigen would pay the price. 

Bang. 

Blood spattered the desk behind the boss, and Goemon watched as the man looked up once in surprise before collapsing to the floor. Stunned, he tried to twist around as two more shots rang out, sending the rest of the guards to the ground in agony as an unseen foot knocked their guns towards Jigen. 

“Honestly, Goemon,” a familiar voice said breathlessly from behind. “If you’d just waited for me to finish that fucking plan of mine…” 

“Lupin!” Goemon startled as he allowed the master thief to hook his arm around him and, along with Jigen, help the blood-soaked samurai to his feet. “We had to make ha-” 

“You okay, Jigen?” Lupin interrupted before they could waste any more time arguing as he eyed his gunman beside them, looking like hell.

“Yeah…” Jigen replied, voice weak and exhausted. 

“Can you walk okay?”

“Mm,” he grunted in answer, picking up the weapons at his feet before limping towards the door as if to prove his point. 

“Alright. Let’s get you two out of here,” Lupin said, a sad smile on his face. They left the room, closing the door on the faint cries of the guard’s and their Boss’s yells, but they weren’t safe yet. The remaining men outside trained their guns on the three of them, eyes cold, expressionless.

“I don’t have my magnum,” Jigen hissed into Lupin’s ear, as he raised the other weapons in disgust. 

With a grin, Lupin pressed the .357 into Jigen’s palm and slapped the remains of his hat over his head. “Go get ‘em, Jigen,” he said before dragging Goemon into the elevator. 

Even wounded and exhausted, Jigen flicked his magnum up and shot both men before the hat had fully settled on his head, stomping after them with an expression somewhere between disgust and relief. Goemon struggled to lift his head enough to make sure the bullets were Jigen’s and not returning fire, but the two short barks told him the rest of the story as one last shot brought them into the elevator. Lupin punched the doors shut and they began to descend.

“Downstairs?” Jigen asked, loading the bullets Lupin had given him into his magnum. 

“Let’s just say Goemon discovered his true calling as an interior decorator.” Lupin replied with a mixture of amusement and solemnity. “It was tough to tell, but I think his favourite colour is red.” 

“It could not be helped. They would have killed me,” Goemon protested, closing his eyes and sighing. 

“The ones I didn’t get will probably follow us down. Be prepared,” Jigen mumbled, flicking his gun so the barrel clicked back into place. 

“Sheesh. You two are ruthless,” Lupin said, giving an exaggerated sigh. 

The elevator stopped and the doors slid open. Outside, three men stood, cheeks pressed into their rifles as they aimed. Goemon drew his sword and slashed one to pieces. A last ditch effort. He slumped in Lupin’s grip, vision fading, the sounds of gunshots ringing in his ears. He saw Jigen step forward, heard two loud gunshots, saw the blood splatter to the ground. Jigen’s face peering into his, a concerned expression on his face. 

“Goemon?”

“Mmm,” was all he could muster, struggling to put one foot in front of the other as Lupin led him out of the building. 

“Stay with me, okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said, allowing himself to be dragged into the car. He laid down in the cramped backseat, his entire body aching. 

Jigen sat in the passenger seat, visibly shaken up. With his trembling hands, it took a couple of attempts to light his cigarette and exhale a plume of smoke, but the tension eased from his shoulders when he was able to. Goemon waited until Lupin had driven away from the hotel before he tried asking again. “What did they do to you?” 

Lupin perked up at this question, his brow furrowed as he glanced over to Jigen.

“They beat me up a little, that’s all. Wanted to know both of yer locations. Said I didn’t know, of course.” 

“They tortured you,” Goemon said, the words like poison on his tongue. He gritted his teeth. He should’ve arrived more quickly. 

“You didn’t get off so well yerself,” Jigen sighed irritably. “Stop with yer fussin’, okay? I’m friggin’ fine.” 

Lupin opened his mouth to reply and then simply shook his head, speeding off into the night.

\---

The sun was burning high when Lupin was finally satisfied with his samurai repair skills enough to sink back in his chair with an ice cold beer and the cooling remains of a pizza from the morning. Despite now looking far more like a mummy than a dignified swordsman, he was at least a lot less red and a lot healthier looking than the pallid skin and cold sweats that had lasted throughout the night.

“How’s he looking, Doc?” Jigen grunted as he joined him, leaning on the edge of the chair arm beside Lupin as he rewrapped his own bandaging and took the beer Lupin passed his way with a nod of thanks.

“Unlike Goemon, I don’t think I should try changing careers, but he’ll live.” Lupin yawned, wiping his face over his eyes before looking back up to his partner. “How about you?”

The gunman pursed his lips into a pale, thin line and had it not been the tremble that had returned to his hand, Lupin would have assumed he was purposefully ignoring him.

“Hey, man.” He started, setting a hand on the other man’s arm.

“Just don’t lie to me, man.” Jigen swept his dark eyes down to meet the thief’s gaze. “You're worth it, but I don’t want to think about bitter shit like that while my guts are being rearranged by some meathead asshole who thinks he's the next picasso or some shit.”  
He popped open the beer and took a swig before muttering under his breath. “...stupid mobster wanna’bes had shit taste in art anyway…”

Lupin chuckled, relieved to hear Jigen’s usual grumbling again. For now he just needed time to process in peace. He’d bounce back as he always did. As for his request, he knew Lupin couldn’t promise that and simply let the comment go. At the very least, he’d try to be a little more mindful. Starting with the slice of pizza he passed over.

“Lupin.”

Goemon’s voice drew both sets of eyes to where he lay on the couch.

“I am sorry I let my frustration get the better of me and left before you were done thinking. I am also sorry I accused you of not caring. That was wrong of me and my foolishness could have made things much worse if you had not shown up.”

Throwing his free hand up, Lupin waved him off as he took another slug of his beer and rolled his eyes back in mock exasperation. “Believe it or not, I am pretty amazing, and I have really good plans that tend to not result in repainting a whole hotel in my own blood, but you know…”

Goemon had the grace to look guilty and Jigen snorted in amusement. Lupin’s eyes flicked up to the smirk on the gunman’s lips and he couldn’t help the grin that split over his own face. Nothing to keep them down forever.

“Alright, so bit of a shitty start---don’t glare at me like that Jigen, it’s rude.” Lupin huffed before continuing, “So let’s take a few and then get on with the original job. I had some time to think while I was patching up Goemon and ---”

As they had done thousands of times before and would do again thousands more, the group huddled together to listen to the next grand and daring plan of Lupin III, master thief.


End file.
